


Cadence

by quoll



Category: Crash Bandicoot (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sappy, Self-Esteem Issues, Time bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 10:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoll/pseuds/quoll
Summary: N Gin has sides of himself he would rather remain hidden, but eventually everything comes to the surface.





	Cadence

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote last Halloween that I finally managed to flesh out. I was going through some stuff, and this just kind of happened. It may be kind of weird, I'm not sure?  
> I actually have more that I want to do with it, but it depends on the kind of response it gets.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and all feedback is always welcome and appreciated :) if any of you would be interested in me continuing this, please let me know.

He was definitely going to be sick. N Gin lurched some as he held his stomach, a faint tinny whine leaving him as he rested against the cool stone of the castle wall. He had to keep sounds like these in check, as he wasn't exactly alone. Cortex and the others were still enjoying their yearly Halloween party in the room nearby. The night was still young by their standards, but he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. Crowds, parties, any sort of large gathering just wasn't his thing. He wanted it to be, but the two never meshed. As a result, he'd left early under the guise of a headache. 

He really used that excuse more than he should, but at least it never wore itself out. Who could doubt him? The others were used to his presence, and as such, as long as the obnoxious protrusion in his head remained dormant, he was often invisible. No one noticed him leave, nor did they notice him stow away with the communal candy bowl.

It had caught his eye on the way out, and it provided a warm blanket of security that quelled the stress from earlier. But what had started off as a fantastic rush, a surge of glee and delight, ended up with him feeling like he going to die at any moment. He leaning into himself for some attempt at comfort, but to little avail. Smog snaked around him, his distress having set off the missile's activity some time ago. The noxious smell of the exhaust only furthered the unease in his stomach.

Why did he _do_ things like this to himself? Why did he lack any kind of self control? Even now he was reaching for another piece, compulsively tossing it into his mouth. The sensation and taste were _euphoric_ \- an intense melodic sweetness that made every miserable thing about himself, every dismal aspect of his life, melt away like the sugar on his tongue. It silenced every shortcoming and heightened every victory. It sent tingles and sparks through his head and caused his optics shift ever slightly with pleasant trails of indigo and cyan. In a way, it was like an addiction, and this was his hit. 

But it was short lived as he swallowed it. The pain in his teeth, a sharp, angry twist in his stomach, and the biting queasiness were all a glaring reminder that he had _inhaled_ an enormous bowl of candy that was meant to be shared between associates. The amount eaten shouldn't be possible for one mere person, in one single setting, yet here he was. The cyborg couldn't help but snort at himself. Of all the things to excel at...

With that, something new crept into his mind, a thought that briefly stilled his chewing and made the cloying sweetness momentarily bitter. He could only imagine what his superior would say. When Cortex found out about this, and he _would_ , because he always _did_ , he would never hear the end of it. It had always been an issue and something to jeer at when they were children, and old traits carried strong well into adulthood.

The thought of the impending chastising and disgruntled looks only served to make him feel flustered and restless on top of his shame. He couldn't handle it, he didn't _want_ to. More candy, an explosive rush of happiness, a decadent taste to coat his tongue, and then a wave of regret that needed to be soothed with another piece of candy. It was a literal self feeding cycle.

He had always been like this, but after the accident it became difficult to properly cope with his turbulent mood. His history was marked with many an occasion of hiding and binge eating, and though rare, sometimes to the point of actually vomiting. But the latter wasn't really _so_ terrible, because then he could start the process over again. This was his _friend_. It was there for him unconditionally, and it comforted him. It did not judge him or remind him of his glaring inadequacies. It wasn't bothered by his eccentricities or mood swings, nor was it fickle or unreasonable. Food had always been the most stable thing in his life. 

And as a result, it was one of his most favourite things in the world, and there was one thing he was especially partial to. _Candy_. He absolutely _adored_ sweets. Chocolate, gummies, taffy, hard candy- anything and _everything_ sweet within arms reach was his. Two pieces could quickly turn into twenty as he struggled to manage with it unless it was rationed out to him like some sort of child. He patted the bottom of the bowl and turned it upside down then tossed it to the side, frustrated. The only thing stopping him now is the fact he had ran out of his supply.

Gin huffed and debated if it was worth going back and enduring the crowd to see about sneaking more, but his decision was quickly made for him. He doubled over into himself, nauseated and dizzy. His ears rang and he felt flush, probably from the mass quantities of sugar now coursing through his bloodstream. He shut his eyes, gulping audibly and nestling into something cold. Thank goodness for the chill of the wall.

The intense nausea and vertigo bordered towards delirium from how suddenly it rushed through him, and now there was a new problem to face- his stomach. There was such a tightness encompassing it and squeezing, so much so that it took the air from him. As it continued it goaded him to open his eyes, and he was startled to find there was something actually twining around his middle. It was something solid, cold, and something that right now felt like a boa constrictor. Why now, of all times? 

A playful squeeze is all it took to push him over the limit. One of his hands flew to his mouth to still any possible retching. He couldn't speak yet- if he did he would vomit. The very thought of that earned a hiss of stream from his missile. 

"So _this_ is where you've been hiding. What are you doing out here? I've been looking for you for some _time_ now..." Tropy muttered, scolding him teasingly as he squeezed him again. Any other time the affection would be welcome, but right now it was some horrible burden. His lack of response was out of character, and this earned a disappointed hum from Nefarious.

N Gin tried to wriggle free, but to no avail. Between the steam and smog, how could his distress not be known? Now the cyborg was just getting pissed off, which wasn't a hard thing to do as it was. He pulled at the arms around him, trying to pry them off, the fabric of his sleeves catching on his tacky hands. He didn't want to be _seen_ like this, he didn't want Tropy to _know_. Those arms embracing him were not only painfully tight and making him nauseated, but they were also reminding him of his own great circumference.

He hated himself because he could not melt back into the rare display of open affection he so adored. But Tropy was defiant and with a devious chortle pulled him back, squeezing tighter. He couldn't fault him, but god his playful mood could not have been more ill timed. N Gin was _shy_ and the man did enjoy teasing him, as well as trying to prod him out of his fortress of social awkwardness and anxiety. And often times, it was appreciated. It was exciting and fascinating, but right now...

"Stop it- let _go_ of me..." Gin managed to wheeze out. He was _not_ going to vomit on his boyfriend. And the realization he had just mentally referred to Nefarious as his _boyfriend_ made him wonderfully anxious and only added to his queasiness. It added to his frustration to keep this ugly part of himself where it belonged- hidden away like the shameful thing it was. 

Being with Nefarious, having his companionship, meant worlds to him. But it brought something else with it, a burden of sorts. There was a new pressure that he'd never had to deal with before and there was another person to be considerate of. There were now _expectations_ placed upon him, and these were nothing like he had dealt with before. Work, school... all of those had been so _impersonal_ when held in comparison to this. And now that he had what he wanted, he was terrified of losing it. He was terrified of being abandoned, and so he did everything he could to hide the weakest parts of himself. And this was certainly one of those things.

His fears grew as he heard the man huff and Gin tensed in response. He didn't even need to see his face to know what expression it held. He watched and spied on Tropy enough to know each expression that accompanied every small sound. He was perplexed, and exasperated, brow creased in annoyance at being _denied_ something. As the hands around his middle suddenly relaxed, he felt a simultaneous relief and pooling of angst. N Gin didn't want to mess this up, but he _was_.

"Am I _bothering_ you?" Tropy asked, though it lacked the playful quip it held earlier. It was curt but there was something else there with it, and he couldn't tell what _that_ tone was. The uncertainty made the churning in his stomach worse. It was hard to concentrate and, as usual, his companion's impatience was tangible as fingers drummed along his middle. The sensation tickled a bit and made him tense up noticeably.

"Uugh, no..." N Gin shook his head, adding with a grimace. May as well confess now, "It... It's just if you keep doing that I'm going to puke..."

"What?" The time master muttered. Gin closed his eyes in apprehension, as though bracing for the worst, and like numerous other times, wished himself to disappear from the situation. It was _obvious_ what happened, with the dozens upon dozens of wrappers surrounding him in this little alcove. They loudly proclaimed his lack of self control. Nefarious quickly put two and two together, simply voicing the revelation with an inflected, " _Oh_."

When nothing else was said it made him worry. The man had never really _seen_ this side of him, though at least this was tame compared to times past. He felt it to be obvious he had a problem with food, but there was a difference between assuming and _knowing_.

Seldom did anyone walk in on the aftermath of one of his binges. He had gotten better at hiding them over time. No one really stood witness to the messy piles of wrappers, the sticky stained fingers, and at times the string of vomit dangling from his quivering chin. As least he hadn't thrown up on himself. Just the mere _thought_ of Tropy stumbling upon him like _that_ earned a chuff of noxious fumes from his missile port. 

This was humiliating, and the longer the other's presence lingered in silence, the more anxious he grew. It made him fearful that something like this would warrant the man to leave him, that _this_ is what would finally bring him to realize he was too damaged, or perhaps too repugnant, to be properly functional or anything of worth. Over time, especially since the accident, he'd accepted that he was disgusting, embarrassing, _unsightly_. And he feared this event only made those personal failings glaringly obvious. The time master thrived on pristine order, and only loved chaos when _he_ was the source. He frowned upon obvious weakness and shortcomings- and that is all N Gin was. _He was weak and chaotic._

Nefarious pulled away from him in a delayed fashion, hesitating briefly before he picked up one of the discarded bits of trash. He examined it a moment, seemingly thoughtful, before he began scooping the wrappers into his hands and sat them in the bowl from whence they came. The silence between them was strained, only compounded by the careless crinkling of handfuls of brightly coloured plastic. As the pile grew within the bowl so did his apprehension about the entire ordeal. The little cyborg wondered if he was keeping inventory. The man certainly did get a strange thrill out of counting things...

But certainly that would be such a waste of his 'valuable time'. In fact this entire display was just that- a waste. So why was he even bothering? He cleaned and tidied but he did not clean up the messes of others. Gin watched him carefully, trying to gain _some_ possible insight. Nefarious' face was was unreadable and static, as it often was, and offered no feedback that he could work with. He wrung his hands together and were it anyone else he would shoo them away, but with Tropy he had neither the will nor the courage.

The taller man became aware of the staring and glanced at him shortly, offering a brief glimpse of a lopsided smile that faded as quickly as it came. The sight of it confused him and forced him to assess the situation once more. He mulled it over a moment, watching him continue to scoop up the remains without a word. He wasn't going to scold him or draw attention to the mess he'd made- he was helping him _hide_ the evidence.

Upon this conclusion, it made something in his chest flutter anxiously. He didn't know how to accept the help, as it had never been given. He offered a few meager sounds of protest, but they fell on deaf ears. Nefarious was helping him hide the evidence, and though it was touching, it was embarrassing he had to even do it at all. The entire thing made him both flattered, and deeply uncomfortable.

"Come on. I think I know what will help." Tropy finally said quietly once he was satisfied with his work. He helped him to his feet, using the cape draped over his shoulders to wipe the remnants of his binge off his face. Gin stared up at him dumbly, a quiet mechanical chirrup drifting out of him, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

The sheer delicate nature of the touch startled him. He wasn't being berated or teased, and as far as he could tell there was no disgust. Rather, Tropy appeared concerned, though the cocked brow gave way to a trace of amusement at this self inflicted wound. When he thought about it, the whole situation _was_ dreadfully pathetic- a grown man sulking and whining over a stomach ache from eating too much candy.

It hurt to stand, and it hurt to sit. It hurt to exist and he was miserable as he stood there with his arms wrapped around his middle, swaying and shivering with restless energy. Tropy had started off on his own path but he did not follow. It wasn't to be defiant, but because he genuinely couldn't fathom exerting that much energy right now. With a mutter from the man above him, gravity inverted and suddenly he was being hoisted up with ease thanks to that tireless mechanical arm. A warbling blip of a squeak left him in response.

He would never get used to being picked up. It was a strange sensation, one that was simultaneously embarrassing and empowering. It gave him a strange sense of invulnerability. After the initial awkwardness faded, he would carefully settle against the man, resting his head against his shoulder and occasionally toy with one of the buttons of his shirt.

Things like this he adored. They were more addictive than the candy he had gorged on earlier, and the rush to his head made him delightfully woozy. It was intimate, sweet, and it pulled at the loneliness in him, the starvation for affection, and siphoned something out of him that made him desperate for closeness. And Nefarious seemed always happy to oblige, even now with sticky hands marring his otherwise clean shirt.

The sound of festivities slowly faded as Tropy walked with him, N Gin supported by one arm and the candy bowl in the other. He wasn't sure how long they had been moving, he was too content with his face nuzzled into the man's shoulder to look around, but he felt Tropy's weight shift against something heavy. Shortly after, he heard a door give way. Based on the smell alone, he knew where he was. It was musty, much like an old cellar or perhaps an attic. It was the library, a place seldom used and a safe haven for tonight.

He could still hear the music and chatter from the Great Hall, though now muffled and hushed. Tropy found a corner to settle in, a nice area tucked behind a towering row of bookshelves. It was peaceful and isolated, but allowed them an advantage of a warning were someone to poke their head in. 

N Gin liked it in here. He always has. It was peaceful and pleasantly quiet. He loved the collective smell of the weathered books and the dramatic arching stained glass windows that lined the expansive walls. He adored the chipped and fading murals on the ceiling and how the light outside would dance over them, seemingly bringing the still images to life. As much as he loved his lab and spent much of his time there, this was always a refreshing change of scenery. But right now he paid little mind to anything around him, his attention was devoted to Nefarious as the two sat down. 

He pulled him sideways to settle in his lap, being mindful of his distressed state- how thoughtful.The attention was more than he'd ever expected, and like the glutton he was, he always craved _more_. He was never satisfied. He was ravenous and greedy for the small moments together and he never wanted them to end. Suddenly, however, he got a little more than he'd bargained for as Nefarious ran his hand over his stomach. 

Gin tensed and muffled a squeal, the sound catching in his throat like a squeaking cassette ribbon. The sudden jerking motion aggravated the soreness in his abdomen and made his breath catch in his throat. Nefarious didn't move his hand, rather he merely stilled it and allowed it to rest there. 

He could feel eyes on him and, after a time, chanced a glance up at him. A small smile tugged at his lips, being greeted with Nefarious, and the silly costume he adorned. It looked authentic, and it had taken many hours of pouting and careful persuading to get him to even agree to participate in this 'childish charade'.

A vampire was a good choice, he didn't even need the cheesy plastic fangs to complete the outfit- he already had his own natural set.

His costume was certainly _much_ nicer than his own. It was regal and wonderfully tailored. They were actual clothes meant to be properly worn, unlike his own dinky pirate facade. Something as shallow and meaningless as this drew up further insecurity. It made him aware of the hand lingering on his stomach and earned him to shift in discomfort. A pang of dread and sickness gripped him unmercifully.

"I think I'm dying." He mumbled with a mechanical wheeze, accompanied by an exaggerated grimace once he'd settled down, voice engulfed by layers of costume fabric and lost in the man's chest.

"Oh, _please_. You aren't _dying_." Nefarious rolled his eyes in response to N Gin's professed tragedy, then added, "But, you _are_ silly for doing this to yourself..."

He was clearly being careful with his wording, and for that Gin was appreciative, though it did make apprehension claw at him. He was paranoid, and self centered. These are things Nefarious had observed about him, and freely expressed. So he pushed these feelings back into the depths of his already crowded mind. He wasn't aware as to just how tense he was until Tropy gently nudged him.

"You need to _relax_." Tropy drew him in closer. The touch over his stomach was hesitant, reserved, and Gin understood why. They had not exactly been together long, perhaps a few months, but there were certain areas that he didn't really want Nefarious to touch him. And this was one of them. It drew unwanted attention and this made him anxious, it made it hard to relax and he tensed further. In other situations he could discreetly pull away or make up some excuse that he needed to get back to work, but there was no sort of scapegoat to fall back on. 

Gin was conflicted because, in spite of this, it was actually rather pleasant. Something so small was new and exciting. The hand now slowly rubbing his stomach was cold, but it quickly warmed up as it absorbed the heat through his sweater.

For a moment he found himself adoring it, quiet reedy murmurs of appreciation leaving him as the nausea and dull pain ebbed off. It was short lived as Tropy lightly kneaded an area below his ribs, pressing just slightly, experimentally. It tickled and caused him to flinch with an ungraceful snort, but left him uncomfortable. 

It made his mouth dry and his skin prickle painfully with hot shards of glass. It reminded him of how different they were, and how how dumpy he actually was. Nefarious was lithe, fit. He maintained himself well and was rightfully prideful in his looks. But N Gin, on the other hand...

This needed to stop.

"Hehe, no, that's... that's alright I feel a lot better now..." He chuckled nervously and wiggled away from his touch, at least as much as he could given the position he was in. The touch reminded him of the teasing, of his lack of self control, and of how ugly he was. It made him feel inadequate and afraid, as though he were somehow hiding a secret under his own costume and Nefarious had revealed it.

But Nefarious was defiant and stubborn and he pulled him back with ease, resuming his motions of massaging his stomach. Admittedly it felt nice and he was greedy for the special attention. But still, he tried. He wriggled and tried to scoot away in vain. The rubbing stopped and he would not meet Tropy's gaze. His hand lingered on his stomach as he stared down at him, expression static.

"Why won't you let me touch you?" Tropy asked him quietly, brow creasing some now. At first he didn't know how to respond to that question. It was embarrassing to admit, to speak it aloud and call attention to himself. He screwed up his face in apprehension and tapped his fingers together while low murmurs left him as he tried to form his thoughts. He'd never been asked that before and response was difficult. But, it was worse to keep dancing around it.

"Because I'm uh..." Gin left the sentence hanging and motioned to himself awkwardly, the motion earning a raised eyebrow from his companion. 

" _Pudgy_?" He droned out. The very particular _way_ that word rolled off his tongue reminded him of being teased in school. Smoke coiled from his missile and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be mad at Nefarious, but, for a moment, he was, and he shot him an hurt glare. It was true, it was an obvious fact but it hurt to hear nonetheless. It was something bad, it was something to be ashamed of, and now that Tropy was made mindful of his problem eating, it was abhorrent. 

"So?" Nefarious interrupted his thoughts with a casual shrug. That was his response? It wasn't bad, no, it was just so... anticlimactic.

"It doesn't bother you?" He muttered out, a breathless giggle squeaking out of him as Tropy prodded at his side playfully, deliberately tickling him again. 

"No. If it did, you would know." That much was true, and he tried to placate himself with that knowledge. Even though Tropy was kinder to him than the others, he still did not lie or inconvenience himself to spare his feelings. He spoke his mind freely, he just managed to muster more tact with N Gin. 

"I like _you_." Nefarious reassured him, tone strained with a small inflection of mirth. He then smirked lightly as he teased, "I think that _someone_ is fishing..." 

He gulped. Maybe he _was_ fishing for a compliment, he certainly craved them, but he didn't know what to do when they were received. His anger and hurt wavered under the man's gaze and dissolved completely as Tropy offered him a small smile.

"I think that you are lovely, just as you are." The statement made him bubbly in his core. It was darling and for now, helped ease those troublesome thoughts. Nefarious delicately squeezed him, exerting just the slightest amount of force to cement those words into him. He then chided him, "Now, stop acting so ridiculous and relax. Tensing up like you are is only going to make your problem _worse_ and waste both our time..." 

With a titter he relented and settled into him, wiggling lazily to get into a more comfortable position and nestle in among the layers of fabric. He had expected a barrage of questions, an interrogation as to why he was this way. But none came, and relief enveloped him. The rubbing of his stomach resumed and though he did still occasionally twitch and tense up, he really did enjoy it. It left him feeling drunk and lazy, and those feelings overshadowed his lingering anxiety and embarrassment about the whole situation.

Tropy was always so unexpectedly kind to him. He didn't understand why, and he likely never would. For whatever reason, he was special. No one else had this with him, no one else got to spend these intimate moments alone in his company, especially in not such an intimate manner. 

These moments, these kind words of whimsy and praise, of professed adoration and reassurance, were his, and only his. And this realization, this startling kindness, pulled at that need in him and drove him to press into the man further, to essentially cling to him. It was reciprocated, the arm cradling him tightening and a low rumble of a chuckle settled in his chest.

Things like this reminded him fo why he adored Tropy so much. No, it was more than that. It was so far beyond that. He loved him. He loved him to the point it made his heart ache and his chest feel as though it would collapse from the sheer magnitude. Tropy had given him things he had always craved, but never knew the words for. And even right now with something as simple as massaging away a stomachache or sparing him from Cortex's scolding, his feelings flooded through him and threatened to totally engulf him.

He didn't know how to process this. He didn't know how to handle the kindness, or cope with the absence of shame. The acceptance of his faults was welcome, but confusing. It was overwhelming, painful, and wonderfully terrible all at once. He drew in a shuddering breath as he tried to compose himself. The last thing he needed to do was cry. He was such a _sap_. 

With that, he was held tighter, Tropy chastising him lightly for doing this to himself, but never stopped the soothing motions. It seemed he'd interpreted the the quivering sound as his pain returning. And he would let him think that. He didn't need to let on exactly what was causing this right now, that he was about to have a breakdown because he was so overwhelmed by his feelings for Nefarious, and didn't know how to react to his attention. 

Instead he focused on the feeling, the now warm hand circling over his stomach, pressing slightly on just the right places. It was still awkward and uncomfortable... but nice, and a good distraction. It took the edge off the pain and made it manageable. Tentatively, he rested one of his hands on Nefarious'. The small hum of approval that met him made him melt inside. With that, he finally relaxed into his touch, now idly tracing small circles around his prominent knuckles, marveling at the feeling of the tendons of his hand flex and move with each careful motion.

Quiet, contented mechanized chirps wavered through the otherwise silent library, the sound echoing back faintly when the pitch was just right. He nuzzled into his chest more. By this point, Tropy was now warm and Gin delighted in it. He really didn't deserve this kindness but he accepted it anyway. In spite of the pain still twisting his gut occasionally, he was sleepy and content. More chirps, soft giggles, and then something else. 

He burped. It was spontaneous and without any warning for either of them. Tropy stilled his hand momentarily and Gin was mortified. Of course he found it _hilarious_ , but he wasn't sure what the other man would think of such a display. Nefarious was snooty and disgusted by even the simplest of things. He couldn't really picture him even doing something so 'undignified', as he would so aptly put it, but especially not so openly, and loudly, as N Gin had just done.

But the quiet chuckle that left Nefarious made his stomach flutter and twist again, the slow circular motions resuming. He smirked at him, tickling his stomach lightly, "Better?"

This earned a snorting giggle from Gin. He couldn't deny that he did actually feel a bit better. The massage helped, but it was also the kindness, the reassurance, the seemingly unconditional acceptance that did something wonderful to him inside and made all his worries and pains distant.

Nefarious shifted slightly and slouched down, "Look at me."

In a delayed fashion, he did as instructed, tiling his head upwards to meet those flickering golden eyes of his. They were encapsulating and burned fiercely with _something_ he could never place his finger on. They always did make him nervous, but not necessarily in a bad way. 

Without warning he migrated his hand upward and cupped his face, the motion earning a faint wheeze from the smaller man. The gentle brushing of his thumb over his cheek made him flush. A nervous titter, some awkward murmuring, and a gust of steam. It required minimal effort on the time master's part to reduce his companion to a bashful lump of hot air.

But who could fault him? Everything he did was strangely sensual. He didn't even have to make an effort, it was just in his nature. And his regal adornment only added to his graceful air and allure. Gin was often smitten with him, and doubted the charm would ever fade.

He loved the attention, but as always it made him uneasy, concerned Nefarious would find some glaring flaw, or be disappointed in his inability to reciprocate the flirting, "Hehe you're missing the party..."

"Oh, I'm confident they'll manage without me. I think my time is better spent here." Tropy said in kind. With that, another surprise, a small kiss. It was light and affectionate, but meaningful.

It made something in the small cyborg's head spark, and his inner optics flash with an array of colours. Of course he reciprocated, face flushed as even after months of moments just like this, he still couldn't get used to it. 

He didn't understand what Nefarious saw in him, or what about himself was considered remotely attractive or likeable, but whatever it was he hoped he could maintain it. The kiss was sweet and short, quickly broken as he was pulled close once more. Nefarious then kissed his forehead, carefully avoiding the heated metal. After burning his lips once before, he knew better to stay clear of it. But it professed N Gin's flustered mood, and it never failed to amuse him.

He could feel the man's smile against his skin and it only added to the bubbling delight in his core. Stomach ache and shame long forgotten, he basked in this tender moment, and cherished the time with him. And with the quiet sigh of contentment that purred distantly in Nefarious' throat, it became clear the feeling was mutual.


End file.
